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Shadows and Twilight -- 1

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#1 Guest_Serena_*

Posted 01 December 2004 - 07:11 PM

Shadows and Twilight -- 1

Ciryon Andure bolted upright as the room shook around her, her auburn hair falling loose over her shoulders. . What the . . . She could hear the sound of metal on metal, somewhere on the outer hull of the Endar Spire. Several alarms were going off, and it took her a moment to recognize exactly what the signal meant. Boarding party . . . she thought, Damn.

This is not good. Unsure of what exactly was going on, she figured it would be better to face it armed. She didn't even bother with her uniform, the simple pants and shirt she had slept in would work just as well. Both boots went onto her feet, the uniform jacket was slung over her shoulder, and the blaster belt buckled around her waist. The vibroblade she merely held. It was likely she would have to use it soon. Grabbing her pack from the chair where she had left it, she flew out of the door and into chaos.

“Ciryon!” Someone called her name over the squeal of alarms and stressed metal.

“Trask!” She cried, whirling. There was a relieved smile on her face as she saw her friend. “We're being boarded!”

He shook his head, his blond hair standing in all directions. “Mistress of the obvious, eh, Cir?”

She was in no mood to joke around. “Hah,” she spat out. “Sith?” Trask merely nodded. “Crap. What's the plan, fight or escape?”

“Dunno.” Trask shrugged. “Untill we know that Bastila gets away, we fight, I guess.”

Bastila. The name still resonated in Ciryon's head. The strange Jedi who had agreed to get her out of a world of trouble. And had apparently gotten her right back into it; being on a stuck like a Hutt on a Republic ship during a Sith attack was not what she had had in mind. She wanted to be back on the Arrow. “Where to?” she asked Trask.

“Bridge.” Trask said, running a hand over his grime-smeared face. “Carth called – get down!” He broke off what ever he had been going to say, and tackled Ciryon to the deck. The whine of blaster bolts echoed around her, and above her. He rolled quickly, firing off shots. She dropped the vibroblade, and reached for her blaster.

“Watch my back,”she whispered to Trask with a nod as she started to crawl forward, still on her stomach. Trask's shooting had disposed of the two sith soldiers who had come around from the cross corridor, but she was willing to bet that there were more. One brief glance told her that for sure. As she peered around the corner, blaster fire erupted near her head, and she jerked back. Holding up all five fingers and then flashing two more fingers at Trask, she pulled her head back and leaned against the wall. Another shudder wracked the Spire, and she braced herself against the bulkhead, pulling her knees up.

“Ship's not gonna take much more of this,” Trask muttered.

Ciryon looked at him and raised a brow, putting a finger to her lips. The sith probably couldn't hear him, but it was better to be sure. They definitely knew someone's here, she thought, as another round of blaster fire tore at the corner they had taken cover behind. Why are they just standing there? We've got nowhere to retreat to, they could charge us and crush us. Maybe they're a rear guard . . . the corridor they're guarding leads to the bridge, engineering, and the escape pod bays. It suddenly clicked into place. They don't want to take the risk that Bastila gets off. Smart . . . Unfortunate for me. Trask tapped her on the shoulder. They traded places, and he glanced quickly around the corner, firing off a few shots as he did so. “Got 'em,” he grunted. “Dunno how bad.” Then he grinned, holding up a small round sphere. He mimed an explosion with his hands, and held up four fingers. “Cover me, Cir,” he whispered. Ciryon nodded, gripping the blaster tighter. Using a grenade within the confines of a vessel was not the best idea, but they had run out of other ideas.

Trask tossed the grenade, bouncing it off the far wall. The sith troopers wern't stupid, the blaster fire stopped, and Ciryon could hear them scattering away. She covered her ears as the concussion grenade went off.

Trask stood up first, holding out a gloved hand. “C'mon. Let's get up to the bridge.” Ciryon took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. They ran through the corridor, which was deserted save for one soldier who had not escaped the blast. Ciryon took the opportunity to snag a few grenades off of the fallen soldier, passing them off to Trask. It looked like they might need them.

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